


feel you from the inside

by plingo_kat



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 15:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12560024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: “Come on,sir,” Dave says. He rolls the word on his tongue until it definitely doesn’t convey respect.





	feel you from the inside

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Dave gets that good old Bionic Fingerblast™
> 
> \---
> 
> Hands down the best description of Kaz using his prosthetic hand in any capacity.

“Come on,” Dave says, wriggling a little in Master Miller’s lap. “Hurry up, I can take it.”

Miller slaps him on the ass, a solid smack that practically echoes through the air. Dave flinches.

Miller’s eyebrows raise.

“Come on, _sir_ ,” Dave says. He rolls the word on his tongue until it definitely doesn’t convey respect.

“Brat,” Master Miller says, fond. He flips them with effortless strength, pinning Dave to the mattress in a gentle armlock that will nonetheless become excruciating if Dave tries to struggle. “Stay.”

“Yes, sir,” Dave says, and this time it’s breathless and sincere. Master Miller presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, runs his teeth over the knob of his spine. He shivers when he hears the pop of the lube cap.

When Master Miller touches him, Dave suppresses a yelp. His fingers are _cold_ , and after a moment he realizes why: they’re metal. Master Miller is tracing the dip below his tailbone, sliding a finger down the crack of his ass, pressing lightly at the thin skin above his balls with his bionic hand, the metal unyielding, like and unlike flesh. He whines as Miller presses a little harder with a hint of threat.

“Master,” he breathes, and arches back.

Miller kisses him again, this time on the shoulder. “Patience, soldier.” Dave can feel him hard against the back of his thigh, wants him _inside_ , but he also wants—

“Oh god,” he whimpers, and bites down on his fist. Shit, nothing’s even really happened, Master Miller is just – he’s just – pressing his metal finger against Dave’s asshole, there and gone, enough for the muscle to give but not enough to slide in. He clenches on the next ghost of sensation and that’s when Master Miller pushes in to the second knuckle, punching a grunt out of his throat.

“You’re tight,” Miller murmurs into his ear, flexing his finger. “I can tell even with this. You’re going to need a lot of stretching to take my cock, hm?”

Dave bites back a strangled noise. Fuck, it’s not fair when he uses his silky ‘you’re in trouble now, recruit’ voice. And the thought of another finger – another two fingers – maybe three –

“Yeah,” he sighs. “C’mon, Master, please.”

Miller bites his shoulder. “Since you ask so nicely.”

The second finger hurts a little, not really like flesh at all. Dave can feel each time they bump and scrape against each other, the solid vibrations dissipating through his insides, shuddering against the tightness of his rim. He can’t stop the hurt noise that escapes when Master Miller scissors them and pushes his cheeks apart with a firm grip on his ass with his other hand, looking. When he clenches Master Miller’s fingers barely move.

“Oh shit,” he whines, and yelps when Miller drizzles a lube directly onto his exposed hole. “Fuck! Master!”

Master Miller slaps him again, and Dave tries to tighten up but can’t, and then he shudders and pushes back. He wants Master Miller to put another finger in him, to feel the unforgiving stretch, to know that he can _take_ it. He’ll take everything of Master Miller’s if the man will let him.

“Looking good,” Miller purrs. He twists his wrist and Dave gulps for air. “Ready for another?”

Dave has to sounds his way through a couple of false starts before he emits a gasping “y-yeah.” His own desperation makes him flush.

“Hm,” Miller says. He sounds faintly chiding, voice light and even as if he were making an offhand critique on sparring form. “David, you’re dripping.”

Dave whines under his breath, trembling. Miller’s voice is like silk over his skin, stroking over him even as his fingers move inside. They’re strong, fully articulated, even better than a normal hand in some situations. Dave’s mind flashes a whole-body recall of when Master Miller threw him in a sparing demonstration, metal hand gripped bruisingly around his wrist, knee on his arm; he jerked off to the remembrance of body heat for a week afterwards, the heavy weight of Miller’s body pushing him into the mat.

“Please,” he gasps. Master Miller twists his fingers and he moans through gritted teeth.

“You’re sensitive tonight.” Miller nudges his knee up against Dave’s balls and presses forward. Dave humps back even though it hurts, and Miller laughs. “Yeah. I wonder if you can come just from my fingers?”

Dave shakes his head, but he’s already imagining it: Master Miller putting another finger into him, hard and fast, spreading all three of them, looking at him wide open and wanting. Maybe he’d run his flesh thumb over the helpless gape of him, tug down on the rim; maybe he’d pull his fingers out and grind his cloth-covered cock against the lubed mess of Dave’s ass; maybe he’d keep those three fingers in and undo the buttons of his fly with his other hand and jerk off with the head pressed up right there, fill Dave up without even fucking him. _Fuck_.

Miller presses a kiss to the back of Dave’s neck, the curve of his lips baring a sharp edge of teeth. “That’s right, boy,” he croons. “I bet you’d cry for me, huh? Beg for my dick?”

Dave’s breath hitches. He can’t get his throat to emit anything but a plaintive little whimper.

He hiccups out a little sob when Miller bites him, sucking on the mouthful of muscle he’s grabbed between his teeth; Dave tilts his head forward to give him more room. Tomorrow Dave will be able to press his fingers to the join of his neck and shoulder and feel the mark Master Miller leaves in his flesh.

“Yeah,” he manages finally, voice a hoarse ruin. “Please, Master Miller, I want it, I want—“

“Shh,” Miller says, the air from his mouth cool over Dave’s sweaty skin. “You’ll take what I give you, Dave, and you’ll thank me.”

_”Please—“_

But Master Miller just laughs. Dave feels tears prick at his eyes.

It’s the best night of his life.


End file.
